Chapter 165

Chapter 165

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Peptobismol]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

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“I originally came to Parzan to pursue that demon. If it continues like this, all participants will be in danger.”

Russell’s expression was serious. Ronan stared at him with a blank expression. Due to the continuous flow of unfamiliar information, Ronan’s mind was in disarray. After scanning Ronan up and down, Russell nodded.

“You passed. Honestly, you exceeded expectations. If there were a few more talents like you, we might be able to stop him.”



“...Passed?”

“Yeah. From what I saw earlier, the Imperial Star and Lady Navirose were also present. If you are acquainted with them, please persuade them. We need to save people.”

Russell’s attitude seemed almost like a superior’s. It was infuriating the way he dragged people out and rambled in an unknown language as if he owned the place. Ronan let out a sarcastic laugh.

‘This won’t work. This bastard.’

Almost everything about him was annoying, but the most frustrating part was his insistence on saving people. Regardless of the credibility of the information, it seemed like his habits needed to be corrected first. Ronan spat on the ground and shifted his steps towards Russell.

“You son of a bitch, this is ridiculous.”

“Hmm? What?”

Ronan grabbed the hilt of his sword. He aimed the blade at Russell and took deliberate steps forward. In the moment of confusion, Russell, trying to draw his sword, was suddenly struck low.

“If you want to fight, go ahead. I’ll cut your head off right now and here.”

“Why are you suddenly...”

“Shut up.”

Russell, overwhelmed by the momentum, released his grip on the sword. As Ronan advanced with each step, Russell had to retreat. Eventually, they reached the edge of the cliff. Russell, with nowhere left to retreat, stumbled and asked in confusion.

“Wh-why are you doing this?”

“You keep blabbering on and on. Demon? Participants in danger? Fine, let’s assume everything you said is true.”

“Ugh!”

It happened in an instant. Ronan extended his arm, gripping Russell’s throat. As he slowly lifted his arm, Russell’s legs left the ground. Ronan took two more steps forward. Russell, realizing he had nowhere else to go, stumbled and asked, gasping for breath.

“Ugh! W-wait...!”

“But isn’t it a bit too much to use saving people as an excuse after doing such things? You, bastard, do you know how many people were almost screwed because of your actions in the arena?”

“I-I...”

“You’re grateful that no one died or got injured? You’re just trying to move on carelessly.”

Ronan snarled as he stared into Russell’s face. Even if Russell’s words were true, his actions were hard to justify. If Ronan had made even a slight mistake, a significant number of the twenty-four participants would have either died or been crippled. The guy who claimed he had to save people was indulging in such actions just to test his skills. Such contradictions were infuriating.

“I’ll explain everything! Just let me go for now...”

Russell struggled with all his might, but Ronan’s strong arm did not yield. It felt like an iron snake wrapped around his neck. Smirking, Ronan spoke.

“Oh, sure. You want me to let go?”

“Gah...”

Ronan released the pressure from his hand. Russell’s body dropped downward. Ronan’s figure quickly receded. For a moment, the word “death” flashed before Russell’s eyes.This chapter was first shared on the Ñøv€lß1n platform.

“Aaaaah!”

The wind roared in his ears. Russell, with his eyes tightly shut, let out a scream. Suddenly, the sensation of something wrapping around his body stopped the descent.

“What...?”

Slowly opening his eyes, Russell gasped for breath. Something like shimmering roots was supporting his body. The roots, growing along the wall, extended all the way up the cliff where Ronan was. Just as Ronan flicked his finger, the roots wriggled, lifting Russell up onto the cliff. Ronan’s gaze moved away, distancing quickly.

“Damn.”

Ronan’s brows narrowed. It was a more gruesome story than he initially thought. Ronan felt like he now understood why he was so blindly obsessed with killing that demon.

“Since that day, I have dedicated my life to chasing down that demon. I encountered him again about a year ago, and surprisingly, his skin and leg that had been damaged were perfectly fine.”

“The leg?”

“Yeah. It was impossible to recover, really.”

After that, Russell began listing the atrocities committed by the demon. Each one was horrifying in its own way. Acting like a wanderer, he would visit secluded villages and massacre the residents before dawn as if it were a hobby. As Ronan listened to the story, a sense of disgust washed over him. To habitually commit murders, even among bastards, marked a dangerously perilous type.

“The last time I saw him was on the road to Parzan, hunting monsters. He took down a Mountain Ogre with a single strike. He became unbelievably stronger than when he threw me into hell.”

“...How were you planning to capture him?”

“I plan to ambush him the night before the final test. To take the last test leading to the Holy Land, you have to join the successful candidates from Aran Parzan. A talented individual like you wouldn’t fail the test, and I‘m confident enough to make it there myself.”

Russell mentioned that the final test of the Festival of Swords was fixed. The candidates from the two towns, Gran Parzan and Aran Parzan, would face each other in a duel. Ronan nodded; it indeed sounded like the right time.

“Anyway... my story ends here. I apologize for causing you so much trouble.”

After finishing his story, Russell sighed. He carefully wrapped the two hooded garments with engraved magic around his head again. Suddenly, Ronan stopped him.

“Wait a moment.”

“Hmm? Why?”

“Take off the hood again. Do you have any other wounds?”

“Huh...?”

“He gave you those wounds. Is it only on your head?”

Russell tilted his head. Ronan’s eyes remained fixated on his head. Thinking about it again, it was definitely a sword mark he had seen before.

“There is, but...”

“Show me.”

Ronan’s voice was firm. Russell, without knowing what was going on, took off his upper garment. His well-trained body was covered in dozens of scars, remnants of the storms from years of mercenary life.

“Here, on the back...”

“You don’t have to say it, just wait.”

Ronan interrupted Russell, who was about to reveal the demon’s inflicted scars. Even without explanation, it was apparent. Such emotionless sword marks were rare. Soon, Ronan confirmed the scar that extended from the left shoulder blade to the waist. Running his index finger over the scar, he frowned.

“As expected...”

“Wh-what’s going on?”

Russell asked in a bewildered tone, but Ronan didn’t respond. Ronan remembered where he had seen these sword marks before. In a forest where drizzling rain fell, mingling with blood. A lone Werelion was hiding in a hole, shivering.

The memory from not long ago, where he discovered the corpses of Dawn Brigade members, came to his mind. Undoubtedly, it was one of the three types of sword marks. Ronan, recalling the words of the terrified lieutenant, spoke up.

“Hey, mister.”

“Yeah?”

“What did that demon look like?”

“Look...? Well... his face was rather ordinary...”

Russell let out a sigh. Summarizing this proved to be a challenge. Suddenly, the characteristics of the demon’s skin from before it returned to normal flashed in his mind. Russell’s lips parted.

“...He had white hair, and his eyes were a peculiar reddish-yellow color. I remember it since it was an unusual color combination. Come to think of it, the color of his eyes was similar to yours.”

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HEL SCANS

[Translator – Peptobismol]

[Proofreader – Demon God]

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